Dear Teenagers

It’s been a few years since I’ve been one of you, but I’ve worked with you for a while now.  It hasn’t always been in a classroom setting, but it has always been in settings where I can hear you talking.  And talk you do.  You talk about many things.  I hear much more than you realize I do.  Perhaps you wonder why I don’t choose to comment.  It’s because I know you’re at a place in life where you need to hear how things sound when you say them.  You need to try words on for size.  You need to see what kinds of reactions you get when you say particular things.  It isn’t much different than when a small child is playing with a shape sorter box and she tries the star shape in the oval, the rectangle, and the triangle in her quest to find the star slot.  This is a boundary-pushing activity.  When children are manipulating those different shapes, they are discovering what the shapes feel like, how they are constructed, and how they fit into the box.  Child development experts would encourage parents to provide their children with opportunities to try all those shapes in all the wrong box slots.  It’s by trying those different shapes that a child eventually learns how to master the toy.

For you all, I think words are like those stars.  Or rectangles.  Whatever.  Words are one of those shapes that you are trying to sort at this point in your life.  Like the shape sorter box, you try a couple different versions of what you’re thinking before you find the one that fits.  Many adults do not understand this, so they react immediately to whatever it is you’re saying.  I think you get a kick out of how quickly you can get a rise out of adults with your words.  Half the time, you don’t even mean them.  You just want to see what happens when you say them.  I believe this, too, is a boundary-pushing activity.  By blurting, whispering, and shouting, you are figuring out where those words fit in grown-up life.  I’m not sure how I learned this, but I’ve known it for a while.  So, I let you talk without much interruption.

But I do listen.  And this is what I hear.

I hear, more than anything, that you simply want to be heard.  You want to believe that your words have value and that what you’re saying matters to the people who are listening.  You know that you’re wrong sometimes.  In those moments, you still want the people around you to hear you and acknowledge you.  You want validation that you were trying and thinking, even if it wasn’t correct.

That isn’t all you want, though, because here’s the kicker: you also know that you’re right about some things.  And nothing is more infuriating than being ignored by someone older than you who is ignoring you to avoid admitting that you’re right.  I would guess that sometimes you stop communicating with adults simply because they have told you in one way or another that no matter what you say – right or wrong – your words don’t matter and won’t ever matter.

I hear that you want adults to trust that you can make choices for yourself.  You want to be able to have some autonomy and you want to make mistakes.  You don’t want to be held to a standard that you don’t feel you can reach.  You want to have freedom.  Freedom with your time, your choices, your mistakes, and your ideas.

Bubbling under the surface of your conversations, I hear that you wonder why adults can’t see you for what you are really capable of.  In fact, I wonder that sometimes, too.  As someone who works with you every day, I see flashes of brilliance.  In fact, I think your age group contains some of the funniest, smartest, most interesting people we have in society.  If more of you felt like you had a place to be heard, I believe there would be changes in the apathy levels that adults so often associate with your age group.  There is so much power in giving people your age a safe place to have thoughts and questions and ideas.  When you feel like you have some freedom to tell the truth, you do it.  And the results are usually astounding.

I love the fact that teenagers haven’t learned that adult filter quite yet.  While it can be infuriating some days, most of the time, the lack of filter means that you look at situations and can see them for what they are.  You can call bullshit from a mile away.  Probably even farther.  This is, perhaps, what causes so many adults to be out of sync with you.  They assume that you are oblivious to “the real world”.  They talk about you right in front of you and assume you can’t hear because you aren’t “real” or viable members of society.  Even worse, adults give you a place to speak, only to use what you say against you.  They act like they want to hear your thoughts and opinions, but really they are looking for ammunition to shoot you down and show you what “the real world” is actually like.  I’ve learned that you all will be whatever it is that is expected of you.  So, if we adults tell you that you have terrible attitudes, that’s what you will have.  If we tell you that you are lazy and can’t work hard, that is exactly what you will be.  You guys are like sponges.  You absorb whatever is happening around you, and then when someone squeezes you (metaphorically), you ooze out whatever it is you were taking in.  We adults soak you full of negativity and then get angry when you spew it back at us.

Your desire to learn and grow and absorb the world is a hallmark of being a teenager.  I would say that you are doing exactly what you should be doing at this time in your life.  Learning.  Growing.  Absorbing.  There is so much potential there.  And so much danger all at the same time.

Absorption is one of the hardest parts of working with (and loving) teenagers.  Because there is no formula for how to get teenagers to want to absorb the good stuff.  Because, despite their growing ability to see the gray of life, teenagers are still largely black-and-white thinkers.  Because 21^st century teenagers live in a world where they are expected to make adult decisions when they don’t have enough experience or foresight to make those decisions.  Because teenagers have to deal with the adult consequences of their adult choices when they are far, far, far from being adults.  Because teenagers resent being told they aren’t adults (even though they know they aren’t) and, therefore, often reject the advice and guidance of real adults in favor of going it alone.  Because teenagers often feel alone and misunderstood and try to compensate for those feelings with choices and substances and ideas that only make them more isolated (which, in turn, makes it harder for those of us who love them to reach them).

These conflicting factors are part of what makes you so confusing to people.  On the surface, this is what people hear from you…

I want to be heard.

I want to make my own choices.

I want to be treated with respect.

I want to make mistakes.

I want to try things I’ve never tried before.

I want to fall in love.

I want to be in relationships.

I want access to my friendships all the time.

I want to grow up.

I want to graduate.

I want to create a life that matters.

I want to get a job someday.

I want to get married and be a parent someday.

I want to have sex.

I want to have money.

I want to be in shape.

I want to be independent.

I want to feel less stressed.

I want to feel less tired.

I want to be out of my parents’ house.

I want to study less.

I want to have fun.

I want to go shopping.

I want to own expensive things.

I want to be attractive.

I want to be free of authority.

I want to avoid things like debt and bankruptcy.

I want to embrace being young.

I want to be an adult.

Adults hear this list and they know what kind of work it takes for these things to manifest themselves in a person’s life.  So they expect you to work hard to achieve those things.  When you don’t take the necessary steps to achieve the things on this list, adults judge you as they judge each other: if you say it but don’t do it, why should I believe what you say?  Again, many of them don’t realize that sometimes you say things to just hear how they sound.  At that point, though, the “damage” has been done.  By saying these things, you’ve created an expectation in the minds of the adults around you.  Even though they all went through what you’re going through, they’ve forgotten what it feels like to become an adult from scratch.  They’ve forgotten what it feels like to craft a life piece by piece.  Don’t blame them for this.  They’ve most likely put it out of their minds because it isn’t an easy process.  It hurts and it’s hard and it’s disappointing.  It makes sense that adults wouldn’t want to remember.  Someday, you may choose not to remember how this feels, too.

However, here’s the big issue with your words and actions being out of sync: people lose their patience pretty quickly.  Under the surface of all those “wants”, this is what seems to be lurking:

I want to be heard, even if I don’t communicate clearly or listen to the other side.

I want to make my own choices, but I don’t necessarily think that I should have to deal with the consequences of my choices.  I’m still learning, after all.

I want to be treated with respect, even if I don’t prove with my actions that I respect myself.

I want to make mistakes, and I deserve to because I am a teenager.

I want to make mistakes, but only the “fun” ones: sex, drinking, and drugs.

I want to try things I’ve never tried before, but I want to do that without feeling unsafe.

I want to fall in love, but I also want to hook up whenever I can.

I want to be in a relationship, but until then, I can do whatever I want.  I’ll still be relationship material.

I want access to my friendships all the time, and my social life is the most important thing to me.

I want to grow up, because growing up means having money and doing whatever you want.

I want to graduate, because my high school is so restrictive.  I’m over it.

I want to create a life for myself that matters, but I can do that later down the road.  That doesn’t mean I have to avoid things now that could possibly jack up my life.

I want to get a good job someday, but my choices now shouldn’t affect that.

I want to get married and be a parent someday, but that is still a ways away.  What happens now won’t affect that.  I can make a lifestyle out of giving parts of my heart away for free.

I want to have sex.  No one really talks about it.  But everyone my age is doing it, so it must not be a big deal.

I want to have money so I can buy the things I want to buy and go the places I want to go.  Money will make me happy.

I want to be in shape, but that’s a lot of work.

I want to be independent, but I don’t want the responsibility that comes along with that.

I want to feel less stressed, but time management skills and study skills are lame.

I want to feel less tired, but I want to stay awake and text my friends all night.

I want to be out of my parents’ house, but I still want them to pay for my life.

I want to study less, but I still want to go to a good college.

I want to have fun, but teenage fun is only defined a couple ways.

I want to go shopping and own expensive things because then I will be happy and important.

I want to be attractive by the world’s standards.

I want to be free from authority, because that is what it means to be an adult.
I want to avoid things like debt and bankruptcy, because those are “really bad” mistakes.

I want to embrace being young, because being young means being carefree.

Your words and your actions together communicate that you want to be adults.  Desperately.  But you want it on your own terms and you still aren’t sure what those terms actually are.  You want to be an adult in a vacuum—free from the constraints of morality, law, family, or society.

And any adult can tell you…that just isn’t how it works.

Every action that you take has a result.  Every.single.one.  Sometimes those results are really amazing, and you get what you want from a situation.  But sometimes, those results are not even close to what you hoped for, and then you have to decide how to deal with it.  That doesn’t always mean that a bad result occurred.  Disappointment can be just as difficult to deal with as disaster.  No matter the circumstances, though, you still have to make a choice.  One of the hardest things I’ve learned about growing up is that you don’t ever stop making choices.  Adulthood is a continuous string of choices.  When you are a child, there are mostly “good” choices and “bad” choices.  The older you get, the grayer those choices get (moral choices notwithstanding).  And sometimes you stare at two life choices, neither of which seems to be any good, but you realize that is what you’ve got to choose from.  In those instances, my mother would always say, “Would you rather be stabbed or shot?”  No fun.  Each choice changes and molds your life.  You may see that change right away, or it could be years down the road.  But count on it: choices = change.

This is why the choices that you’re making now are so important.  You are at a time in life when you are just beginning to make real choices that will affect your independent, adult future.  You are figuring out who you want to be and what you want your life to look like.  You are learning, growing, and absorbing.  I hear you saying that you want a good life, a healthy life, a happy life.  The future looks bright right now, and you’re running toward that light at full force.

And yet, so often, I see you robbing Peter to pay Paul.  You decide that what you want today is more important than what you want tomorrow because you’ve got time to fix tomorrow.  You chip a little bit off of tomorrow so that your today is more fun.  You tell yourself that you deserve to make mistakes today and not to worry, because you can still have what you want tomorrow.  You believe the lie that you can have it all: today, tomorrow, and eternity.

It makes those of us who love you want to throw up or weep uncontrollably.  Because while you say one thing, we hear another.  We hear the truth that you can’t possibly hear because you haven’t experienced enough life yet.  And that isn’t a dig at you.  It’s just the truth.  It’s the reality.  And reality can be scary, which is why growing up is scary.  You all want to grow up so badly, and you run after the parts of adulthood that you believe make you an adult.  But those are the parts of adulthood that have the power to ruin your life.  They can ruin your insides, your outsides, and your soul.  They can ruin your future relationships and your future jobs.  They can ruin your potential and your clear path.  They can devastate your life.  So in your quest to be a grown up and have fun like a grown up, you are setting yourself up to possibly never be able to become a real grown up.  I know people who are in their 30s and 40s who are still digging out of a hole they put themselves in when they were in their teens and 20s.  And it has stunted their growth.  That is what we hear you doing – embracing, really – and it is terrifying to those who love you.

In the end, you are striving to be something that will never exist: an adult who doesn’t have to deal with consequences.  You get angry when someone makes you face the music, and yet that is what being an adult so often means.  You say things like, “But we’re young!  And we are just trying to figure things out and make mistakes!”  Which may be true.  But then don’t ask to be treated like an adult.  You can’t have it both ways.  Either you want to be a grown up and treated like a grown up (and, therefore, deal with grown up consequences for your actions), or you want to be young and act like a young person and be seen and treated like a young person who still has many things left to learn (and, therefore, still needs adult guidance and direction).  I know that is a bitch of a choice, but welcome to adulthood.

You say you want to move forward.  To have many, many tomorrows.  You want to avoid having high school be the best four years of your life.  And yet you live like there is no tomorrow.  You make choices that could prevent you from moving past where you are right now.  You feel entitled to those choices because “you’re young” and because “you’re just making mistakes”.  This is why so many adults dismiss you.  Because you say one thing and live another.  You want to be an adult?  Then learn to take responsibility for your actions, your words, and your thoughts.    

In the end, you want to be treated like an adult and respected like an adult but you make choices that any respectable adult would not respect in another adult.  I believe being young has to do with how you feel and how you view life, not with what you’re doing at the time.  There is no set of decisions that makes you an adult in the same way that there is no set of decisions that makes you young.  But there is a set of decisions that could keep you from becoming the adult you want to be.  Or at least could keep you from getting there when you want to.

In the movie Dazed and Confused, two characters at a party come into conflict with each other.  They eventually fight with their fists, too, but first they fight with their words.  And one guy says to the other, “Come on man, don’t let your mouth write a check your butt can’t cash.”  I suppose that is what I’m trying to say to you today, except maybe a little differently:

Don’t let your choices write checks that your life can’t cash.

You are at a place in life when you are trying to figure out so many things about who you are now and who you want to be.  About what it looks, smells, tastes, sounds, and feels like to grow up.  Your senses are heightened because you are acutely aware of how your landscape is changing.  Anything that makes you feel something seems like an experience worth having.  But you can dull your senses and get to a place where you stop seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing, and feeling.  Where you believe that there is nothing left to see, smell, taste, hear, or feel.  An adult life without those senses is sure to be a disappointing life.  A dead life.  A life spent longing for the past.  You’re an adult for so much longer than you are a teenager.  Save something for the road.  I promise the journey is worth it.

Maybe this is the most important paragraph of all, which is why I’ve saved it for last.  I know you all well enough to know that you listen at the beginning and the end most closely.

While I’ve just challenged you to live to a better and higher standard, you should know that you will fail.  It’s guaranteed.  Please know that this doesn’t make you damaged goods.  It makes you human.  Our humanity is important.  Our God-given humanity is what allows us to see, smell, taste, hear, and feel the world around us and process it on a higher level.  We are not animals, living by instinct.  We are humans, processing and choosing.  Being human is a gift.  But being a human means we sin.  Every day.  We fall short of the standard God set for us over and over and over again.  God gave us the ability to make choices knowing that we would fail.  Because He is a wonderful God, a merciful God, He also made a plan for how to deal with our failure.  You may spend your teenage years writing all kinds of checks your life can’t cash.  Guess what?  God still loves you.  He still wants to be in a relationship with you.  He still sent His Son to die for you.  Nothing that you do or don’t do can ever separate you from the love God has for you in Christ Jesus.  Furthermore, God has promised that He will make all things work together for the good of those who love Him.  Even when you make choices that burn down your life (metaphorically, of course), God will be there, making beauty from your ashes and using your life, your experiences, and your gifts to bring glory to Him.

Love,

A teacher who sees a little and hears a lot and loves no matter what

What I Wanted My Students to Know This Year

Just a note before I begin: I’d like to share that I started writing this devotion before I got in a car accident this past Wednesday.  I’m totally fine, but my car isn’t.  For me, this devotion has taken on a whole new meaning.  I hope it will have meaning for you, too.  Here goes.  :)

Recently, I’ve been considering buying a new car.  Well, a car that is new to me: a new-used car, if you will.  It’s quite a process, the car-buying process.  There are a number of factors involved, most of them financial: the total cost of the car, which make and model works for my life, saving enough for the down-payment, figuring out the loan process and setting up car payments, selling my current car…on and on.  But since I’m looking into buying a new used car, a car that someone else has driven before, there is another factor I have to consider: was the car ever in an accident and, if so, was there any damage to the car?  While a car might seem like it’s perfectly fine on the outside, possible mechanical damage as a result of an accident must be factored in to make a sound financial decision.  To some of you, this might seem obvious.  However, to others of you, maybe you’re wondering why.  If a bump shop and a fresh coat of paint make the car look like new, why does it matter if the car was in an accident?  But here’s the thing: it isn’t the outside of a car that makes it go.  It’s the inside—the engine, the transmission, the axels, the carburetor, just to name a few.  Sometimes car accidents do more damage to those parts of the car than the outside.  The outside can be fixed up and can seem okay.  But the inside can be harder to figure out.  Without looking at a history of the car, I don’t have a way of knowing about possible damage to the inside.  And I don’t want to buy a car that looks okay on the outside but is a mess on the inside.

Some of you might be wondering why I don’t just consider buying a totally new car in order to avoid this issue of what’s going on under the hood.  A new car doesn’t have any issues with previous owners or accidents.  A new car buyer doesn’t need to discover the history of the car because there is no history.  It’s a fresh start, a chance to avoid worrying about the damage that might have been done.  However, there is an unavoidable issue that comes along with buying a new car: the loss of value.  Simply by driving a new car off the lot, it loses a hefty chunk of its value because it is no longer a new car; it is now a car with an owner.  The dealer could no longer market that car as new, so it reduces the amount someone would be willing to pay for it.  But the drop doesn’t stop there.  Within a year, the value of a new car falls by an average of 10%, and after just three years, the value of the car will have dropped by almost 50%.  When you buy a new car, part of what you’re paying for is the label of “new”.  However, there is no chance you will get that money back when you resell the car.  That part of the value has been lost forever.

Sometimes I think we look at ourselves the same way that we look at cars.  We put ourselves into two categories: new and used.  We believe that, at one time, we were a part of the “new” category but have joined the “used” category as we have experienced more of life.  Once we see ourselves as a part of the “used” category, we believe that we have less value than we did before.  No matter how we appear on the outside, we believe that we are permanently damaged goods on the inside because we have done or been a part of things we shouldn’t have and that there is no way we can ever undo that damage.  We believe that we can fool people into believing we are still new (or at least close to new) by how we present ourselves to others and by putting on a new-looking exterior.

Are any of these statements ringing true in your head right now?  I would guess that for many of you, they are.  I’ve chatted with enough of you about big life questions to know that you are all in the process of figuring out how your choices affect your value and where your value comes from.  I also know that there are a number of you who believe you have done things that mean your value is totally lost and gone and cannot be reclaimed.  Let me tell you a little secret: those aren’t just teenager thoughts.  Those are questions that continue throughout life.

But here’s what’s true: we aren’t cars.  That’s your Tweetable for the day.  You aren’t a car.  I’m not a car.  The person sitting next to you isn’t a car.  I will say it again: we aren’t cars.  Here’s what I mean by that.

The belief that we were ever new and perfect and clean is a lie.  When it comes to people, there is no such thing as “new” and “used.”  You all know that we sin.  This gets discussed constantly.  But I want to create a distinction between two words: sinning and sinners.  Sinning is something we do.  Sinners is what we are.  We sin because we are sinful, not the other way around.  If sinning is something we do here and there, then it is something we can undo, and it is our job to correct that action ourselves.  Because sinners is what we are, it’s an ingrained part of our identity that cannot be corrected with simple action.  We can’t stop sinning and we can’t make ourselves less sinful.

I know you all know these things.  We as adults don’t need to remind you that you make mistakes and do the wrong thing.  You all know that you do.  But rather than hearing that and assuming it means the worst, I want you to look at it from a different angle.

Because we ARE sinners and don’t just DO sins…over time, we cannot become a worse sinner than we were before.  My car had less damage on Tuesday than it did on Wednesday.  You don’t work this way.  Your sin is not a debit account.  You don’t start with a certain amount of good and then slowly chip away at that total with each sin you commit.  When you were born (really, when you were conceived) you were already the worst sinner that you would ever be, and your sin is a straight line from conception to death.

“But Miss Carson,” you say, “that doesn’t make me feel any better.  I’m still hearing you say over and over that I’m a sinner.  I know I do bad things.  I know I sin.  And that feels like a burden.”  I’ve felt that burden, too.  But I have learned that the burden I feel is because somewhere deep inside, I have it in my head that I am responsible for fixing it.  That I am the one who has to make it right.  That I am the one who has to fill the gap.  It’s the burden of carrying my own cross.  I can’t deny that sin can bring earthly consequences that we have to deal with, but hear me this morning, please: when it comes to your eternal soul---the part of you that will live forever---you don’t have to do ANYTHING.  You are not responsible for paying for your own sins.  You don’t have to fill that gap.  Jesus already carried your cross.  In the same way that your sin is a straight line from conception to death, Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross is a straight line, too.  It’s enough to cover your line of sin and it’s enough to last your whole life on earth.  You are free from the burden of sin because of who Jesus is, and when you feel that burden, you also have the freedom to go to Him and ask Him to take that burden away.  The best part?  He has taken it away already.  When He said “It is finished” on the cross, it was finished.  Done.  Over.  For eternity.

When Jesus did this for you, when He actively chose to take your place on the cross and forever fill the gap that was between you and God, He paid the full price for your life.  Even more than that, He set the price for your life.  You are worth Jesus.  And unlike a car, your value doesn’t change based on usage, damage, or age.  You do not and cannot lose value the longer that you’re alive or the more mistakes you make, because if Jesus’ sacrifice is a straight line, your value is one, too.  He paid one price at one revolutionary moment in history, and nothing you do or don’t do, become or don’t become, choose or don’t choose can change that value.  It’s a done deal; it’s finished, too.  Let me say it again: YOU ARE WORTH JESUS.

You are not a used car, a new car, a damaged car, or an abandoned car.  You are a valuable individual, created by God the Father.  You are a redeemed child of God, washed in the blood of His Son, Jesus.  You are a precious part of God’s family, protected and led by the Holy Spirit.  You are loved.  You are forgiven.  You are free.  Live in that freedom today.